Drabbles, Drabbles, and Mindless Babble
by Nicholas de Vilance
Summary: A collection of drabbles that may grow for all different sort of movies. The first is Demon Hunter. /cutter!Jake/ The second and third are in the Supernatural world, I guess. /wincest mentioned/
1. Red

Nicholas: This is two drabbles on one subject. They are written for Demon Hunter, but very much influenced by Into the Fire (in which Sean Patrick Flanery's character cuts himself)...so...yeah.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Doesn't mean I can't dream.

Rating: T...dark themes...don't do this at home, kids.

* * *

Jake stares at his ceiling, wondering why he always holds his knife like this. Not that he gets very far in wondering, because he's well aware. The little pocketknife seems to spin with it's own vitality on the backs of hi fingers. He does it because he can and because there was no point in not doing it; he looks at the scars on his left wrist, then stops twirling the knife to look at his right. "I bet I'm ambidextrous," he muses to himself and the cold, lonely darkness of the world around him. Flicking the blade out with a practiced hand, he stares at bright metal in a moment's contemplation. After switching it to his left hand, he lowers the sharp side to his skin and drags it along a stinging margin. Nothing is better than knowing his blood still runs red.

Carefully, he lifted his arm to his face, holding it above him so that little trickles of thick liquid dripped down onto his lip. He licked it away with a brush of pink tongue before pressing the wound against his mouth and kissing it like a long-lost lover. Things like this…this was better than sex, by a long shot. Unlike sex, he could do this all the time. Unlike other people, he had the stamina to do this all the time. It got to be around the time when the sting faded into an aching pain that spread up to his shoulder. This was the part he didn't like, but this was the reason he kept doing it. His palm pressed against his forehead to try and tense away the hurt, to overcome it.


	2. Mrs Jensen AcklesMyers

Nicholas: Becki's fault. She popped my Supernatural cherry and now she's making me write shit pertaining to that and Jensen Ackles...that shmuck...I mean I love him... I still love Sean Patrick Flanery more. He's quirky!!! :) Anyway, this isn't so much movies as it's television (Supernatural) and it isn't so much Supernatural as it is just plain Jensen Ackles. Imagine it from Becki's POV and it may be a bit more understandable for those who know her...for those who don't....hah!

* * *

I could touch myself to that. WAIT! Did I really just type that….Anyway, no. What I meant to write was that Jensen Ackles is totally _doing_ Jared Padalecki. Or maybe vice versa, but... Hey, don't look at me like that. Gay sex doesn't turn me on like that. It's that one sexy man and one Eros-like Adonis are totally in the same place. I don't like reading slash, not at all. I mean why would I want to hear about one _drop. dead. sexy. _guy and getting it on with another guy when I could just as easily be fantasizing making that beast with two backs before my last name is Ackles. _I'm _the one who wants Dean Winchester harder than a steal pipe…that came out wrong…My brain is betraying my lips…shit, I'm going to go read some Wincest.

REEDUS!!!


	3. Take Me With You

Note: Dean is referred to by "I" and Sam is referred to by "you." It's Supernatural, in case you didn't notice.

* * *

You ought to take me with you wherever you go. It isn't fair, you up and leaving in the middle of the night, leaving me cold, wanting your touch. I get you need space or whatever chick bullshit, but I need _you_. I don't care that you just went to the store this time for odds and ends of something or other. Whatever you had been talking about on your way out, I didn't hear. I was too focused on that fine ass walking away from me. I'm still sitting in the chair you left me in, waiting as patiently as I can for you to return. My eyes for some reason glance at the calendar and I see the date for the first time today. It clicks in my head why you're gone. Valentine's Day. One of the most cliché, hated holidays that I could never love more because of you.


End file.
